


But If You Lose, The Devil Gets Your Soul

by Ac1c



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Gen, Suicide Attempt, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ac1c/pseuds/Ac1c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been easier than he had thought to write the letters, words appearing on the blank pages like they had been waiting to be written for ages. He had written one for his dad, one for Scott, Lydia and then a final one for the others. Stiles just hoped they would forgive him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But If You Lose, The Devil Gets Your Soul

He just wanted it to end. 

It had been easier than he’d thought to write the letters. The words simply appeared on the blank pages like they had been waiting to be written for ages, and maybe they had. It was getting increasingly difficult to determine just how long this had been going on and if the thoughts crowding inside his head were his own or just another thing created by the Nogitsune to keep him occupied. He had written one for his dad, one for Scott, Lydia and then a final one for the others. Stiles just hoped they would forgive him.

He didn’t want to do this anymore. That T H I N G taking over his body and hurting his friends while he was forced to watch, unable to do anything… Stiles just couldn’t stand by and allow it. He knew the others were trying to find a way to get it out of him, but that would take time. Time that he didn’t have. Stiles would do anything to destroy it, even if it meant destroying himself in the process. His dad would be heartbroken, but he couldn’t allow himself to think about that. Still, his mind betrayed him. First the poor man had lost his wife, and now he was going to lose his son. No. He had to stop thinking about this. For once in his life, he had to stop being selfish and ensure the safety of his friends and family. It was time to show that fucker he was still in control.

To be honest, Stiles was surprised it had let him get this far. It was unusual and SUSPICIOUS to say the least. It had to know what he was doing and what he was going to do, right? Stiles just assumed it was laying low for now. Maybe he had finally managed to get the upper hand for a while. if only he knew the truth. Making sure he was home alone had been the difficult part. It was like there was always someone there with him; watching his every move and making sure nothing happened. After a few days, Stiles finally got the opening he needed. Everyone was busy doing their own thing, trusting the locks to keep him inside. How foolish of them to think he wanted to get OUT.

Stiles knew exactly where his dad kept the gun. The sheriff locked the drawer every night to make sure Stiles -or anyone else for that matter- couldn’t get to it and accidentally hurt themselves or anyone else. ( He’d learned to pick a lock ages ago. ) The sound of his footsteps as he made his way back up the stairs had seemed to echo throughout the house, reminding him just how empty he felt inside. He hadn’t been able to hold back a chuckle at the irony of it all. Two souls inside one body seemed far from empty.

The gun felt heavy and {wrong} in his hands. For some reason though, the only thing he could think about was that somehow, the shiny metal looked colder than it actually felt. Stiles’ hands didn’t even shake as he brought it up to his mouth. He was sure it was properly loaded. He’d checked twice. Inside of him, something was stirring, but it wasn’t that hard to ignore it. This would be quick, effective, and the answer to all of his fucked up problems. All he had to do was pull the trigger. If it was trapped inside of him, there was no way the Nogitsune would be able to get out and find a new host. It was, without a doubt, a very r e a s s u r i n g thought.

The metal did feel cool against his lips and he couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine. ( An involuntary reaction. ) His index finger was resting on the trigger, ready to pull it back. Nothing could stop him now. He was too far gone to change his mind. Right before he fired the gun, Stiles let his eyes fall closed. He thought about his dad and Scott, about Lydia, Isaac and Derek, Erica, Boyd and even Peter. He thought about everyone he’d LOST and briefly wondered if he’d get to see his mom again. He hoped he’d made her proud.

When he finally pulled the trigger, the sound made his ears ring. With a clatter, the gun fell out of his hands and onto the floor, blood splattering onto the wall behind him. It pooled under his head and continued to flow out of the wound until it soaked right trough the sheets. Dying was… not what he had expected. The ringing in his ears hadn’t stopped and when he focused, Stiles could hear a voice calling his name. It wasn’t his mother’s. He slowly tried to move his fingers, eyes still closed and his head resting against the mattress.

Something wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be able to feel the sheets of his bed underneath him, nor should heaven be this dark. Against his better judgement, Stiles slowly opened his eyes. He fisted his hands in the sheets and let out a string of curses when he realized he was looking up at the ceiling of his own bedroom. He was stil in his own body, very much ALIVE, and it made him so angry he had to grind his teeth together to keep himself from letting out a scream of rage. Tears prickled in his eyes as he wondered how the hell he had survived a fucking gunshot to the head. No one, not even a damn werewolf should have survived this.

Stiles slowly moved to sit up, rubbing the back of his head. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find. Perhaps an exit wound or a large hole in his head where the bullet had gone trough, but all he felt was his skull and hair; STICKY from the amount of blood he’d lost. He didn’t care that the sheets were a mess. Nothing about this made any sense. He buried his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. That’s when he heard it. The voice was still calling his name, getting louder and louder every time.

‘Stiles, Stiles, Stiles…’ It sounded almost disappointed. Stiles pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to block it out. { It couldn’t be. } There was no way it would have been able to survive that, let alone brought him back and healed the wound. “Don’t you see, Stiles?”, the voice continued, paying no attention to Stiles’ racing thoughts as he tried to find an explanation. “I FEED on pain and you gave me so much of it. I really should be thanking you.” Stiles got up and paced around the room as he pulled at his hair to get rid of the frustration he was feeling. He briefly considered going for the gun a second time, even though he knew it wouldn’t work.

“You can’t get rid of me, Stiles. I’m here to stay. f o r e v e r. I’m going to make you watch as I kill them. Maybe I’ll make it quick, show a little mercy. I doubt it, though. You see, it’ll be so much FUN to drag it out, don’t you think? Make them look up at their son, their friend, their killer. You’re mine now.” The house was completely silent when the Sheriff came back home an hour later. He carelessly tossed his keys on the kitchen counter before taking off his jacket and heading to Stiles’ room to check up on him. He knocked once. Twice. No one answered “Stiles?”, he asked, slowly pushing the door open.

The sight that greeted him nearly made his heart stop. He instinctively started to reach for his gun, before he reminded himself that this was Stiles and he couldn’t shoot his own son. Except that it WASN’T. Not anymore. Stiles- no, that thing inside of Stiles slowly turned his head to look at him, the gun held loosely in his hand. The smirk on its face was the exact opposite of his son’s usual friendly smile. The eyes were dark and the movements slow and calculated; all so very WRONG.

“Hello, daddy-o.”, it greeted him, making no move to get up or come closer. It was like something was pinning John to the ground, making it impossible for him to move or take his eyes off what used to be Stiles. The thing never broke his gaze as it dragged a finger over the bloodied sheets, smearing the blood out even more. “He tried so hard.”, the Nogitsune spoke again, looking almost apologetic. John knew better, though. It didn’t care about Stiles or anyone else. With a sigh, it picked up one of the letters Stiles had written, leaving red fingerprints on the white paper as it turned the envelope around a few times. “Too bad it didn’t work, huh?”

The bullet went right trough his chest before John could even think about ducking out of the way. The grin on Stiles’ face as the Nogitsune bent over the sherriff’s body was the last thing he saw before his eyes fell closed and he surrendered to the darkness. “See, Stiles?”, it taunted, delightfully AMUSED. ‘That wasn’t too bad, now was it? Don’t worry though, we’re not done yet.” It whistled along to a tune playing on the radio downstairs as it stepped over John’s body, blood sticking to the soles of the shoes Stiles had put on earlier that morning. A trail of red footsteps marked it’s path.

He’d start with the humans. After all, he still had a few bullets left.


End file.
